


ass out of you and me

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were no trials for men that broke their children. There were only cuts that bled for hours, wounds that made him scream until his throat was raw. There was no chance of freedom, or escape, because as much as werewolves hold on to their humanity they still aren't quite human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ass out of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> i got prompted with spring last night, and i decided i would try to write a quick drabble before work. this is the result. it's not beta'd, and it really was just a twenty minute drabble, so i'm sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> uhm the title is just because the entire time i was writing this i was like "assumptions make an ass out of you and me"
> 
> note: the child abuse isn't detailed, but it's mentioned.
> 
> the suicidal thought isn't detailed, more of a passing thing, but i'm tagging it anyway. if you want to skip it, when you see the line "He can pretend to be the broken boy" skip to the next paragraph.

The pack assumes that his father burnt in the flames.

They assume that his father's bones lie buried alongside his mother and they assume that when spring comes, and Derek picks his mother's favorite wildflowers to prop up on the small headstone that Laura had purchased (small, because they had been trying to run; to leave behind a town that reminded them of screams and the smelled of burning flesh. They hadn't had the time for grand funerals, grand headstones, nothing more than a quick burial and tears shed along the road), he goes to visit his father, too. 

He lets them assume.

Assumptions are easy. He can play up to other people's ideas of himself easier than he can own up to the truth of who is. He can pretend to be the broken boy, that goes out with the sun rising behind him, mourning the memories of his father while he lays flowers down upon graves and pretends that he doesn't want to slit his own wrists there, bleeding out on the damp grass, giving them his life because he robbed them all of their own.

He can pretend to be his father's son, although maybe that isn't so much pretending because he remembers how his father used to be. He remembers hands that were quick to strike. He remembers a quick temper, the way he was quiet until he snapped, and even then he wasn't very loud. He just broke bones, said it was okay because they would heal and it was just like a spanking, except Derek is old enough to know better than that now.

He remembers a man that kept secrets from everyone, and he wonders how many more secrets his father could have kept if his mother hadn't found him huddling in the forest when he was five, clutching his arm close to his chest. He wonders how many more bones would have been broken if his mother hadn't taken him in her arms that day, heart pounding in her own chest while she held him tight.

He wonders if his father cried when his mother had him on his knees. If he begged for forgiveness from a mother wolf with her lips pulled away from her teeth, eyes blazing red while she advanced on him, a growl rising in her throat. He wonders if his father begged for trial or if he ever really understood that wolves didn't work the same.

There were no trials for men that broke their children. There were only cuts that bled for hours, wounds that made him scream until his throat was raw. There was no chance of freedom, or escape, because as much as werewolves hold on to their humanity they still aren't quite human. 

A mother finds her cub, with bruises healing around eyes that should be wide open with curiosity, and innocence. Not almost swollen shut.

A mother delivers her own personal verdict, and in the book that a wolf lives by, a mother's word is law.

The pack assumes that he visits his father, that he cries for the man he lost in the flames, but his father never saw the fire. His father almost died years before that, when his mother cornered him in the house and howled in fury, so loud that Derek could hear from where he hid with Laura and Peter.

They assume that his father is dead.

Derek visits his family once a year, when spring comes for the first time and his mother's flowers bloom in her garden again, and he only spares half a second's thought for his dad because maybe it's true. Maybe his father is dead somewhere, with a grave that's barren and a headstone with no markings.

He isn't really that happy anymore, but that thought?

That thought always makes him smile.

**Author's Note:**

> i like to imagine that derek's father was a pretty cool guy, but it's derek. nothing in his life is actually good.
> 
> if you wanna visit me on tumblr, my url is sourskitles.


End file.
